


Ko Hinemoa, Ko Ahau

by Cahaya (Tarlaith)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: F/F, In Love, Rule 63, Telephone Calls, fem!Billy, fem!Goody, yeah they're girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:32:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8707090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlaith/pseuds/Cahaya
Summary: 'Ko Hinemoa, ko ahau.' - I am just like Hinemoa; I'd risk it all for Love.Billy misses Goody a lot more than she thought she would.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm... not beta-ed. Kind of a part of a longer story I'm working on. Enjoy?  
> 

Billy wakes to dampness between her thighs and a fading image behind her closed eyelids; of luscious blonde curls dancing in the salty breeze of the pacific ocean, of blue eyes shining brighter than the summer sky and Goody's carefree smile as she takes Billy's hand and pulls her into the surf. The water is cold and Billy doesn't like getting wet, but she goes anyway, because for Goody, she'd go anywhere.

That had been last year, during their vacation in Santa Monica. Two weeks later Goody was gone, leaving Billy to wrap up her life in Rose Creek on her own while Goody strolled down sandy beaches on the other side of the world, with names like _Wainui_ and _Koekohe_ and _Ngarunui_.

She sends Billy pictures, of course, a lot of them, posing for the camera in her cute blue bikini that makes her breasts look deliciously perky. But it isn't the same as holding her hand, or pressing her lips to Goody's neck and tasting the sea on her skin in the quiet intimacy of their hotel bed.

Billy shifts beneath her blanket and feels the heated restlessness in her belly that has been bothering her for longer than she dares to admit. She considers comforting herself while the memory is still close but can't work up enough enthusiasm for it.

Instead, she reaches for her smartphone and calls up Goody's blog. There's a new entry, barely three hours old.

“ _ **Te Moana-a-Toi**_

_Kia ora everyone,_

_Welcome to the Bay of Plenty! And let me tell you: James Cook knew what he was talking about. If you've ever seen a picture of a perfect beach, it was probably somewhere around here. Turquoise ocean, golden sand, lush emerald palm trees, the endless sounds of the waves rolling onto the shore... sometimes, I think I can feel time herself stop around me to take a deep breath – and then decide to just stay and enjoy the mome–_ ”

Billy shuts the tab and closes her eyes, breathing against the sudden lump in her throat. She's always known that Goody would take to the world like a bird took to flying; that finally getting out of Rose Creek would be a liberation for her. But before, those thoughts had always included Billy somehow, at Goody's side, loyal and unmovable. It's strange to see her enjoy the world all on her own.

It isn't that Billy is jealous, not really, but they haven't seen each other in ten months and it becomes harder and harder to shake the fear that Goody might prefer to travel on after, to go somewhere else, keep moving.

She wouldn't, of course. But that doesn't make the anxiety go away. Billy scrolls through her contacts and dials before she can change her mind. There's a tense moment of waiting, silence thickening between two beeps, and then a click.

“Billy!” Goody greets cheerfully, and Billy can't help but smile, something warm and fluttery blooming in her chest.

“Hey, baby.” The nickname tastes sweet on her tongue. Billy licks her lips, remembering the first time they kissed, with maple syrup between their mouths.

“How are you? Shouldn't you be sleeping? Isn't it...,” Goody hums as she calculates, “About two am in L.A.?”

“Two-thirty.”

A sigh. “Have you been playing video games all night again?”

Goody knows her too well.

“The night's not over,” Billy points out, “And no, I just...,” she falters, not wanting to say what's on the tip of her tongue. Goody doesn't need to hear all the “I miss you”s and “come back to me”s Billy fights to keep down every time they talk, or text, or email. It would just make her feel guilty, and Billy doesn't want that, because Goody deserves nothing but happiness.

“Billy?”

She almost startles. “I just... woke up thinking of you. And I wanted to hear your voice.” It's half a confession. 

Goody stays silent for so long that Billy is tempted to check the connection, even though she can still hear something that sounds like birds or people talking from the other side.

“... Do you know where I am right now?” Goody asks eventually.

“Tell me.” 

“Mokoia Island.”

Billy settles back into the pillows, drawing the blanket around her like a cocoon. “Am I supposed to know where that is?”

“No.” Goody chuckles and the sound is so familiar it makes Billy's heart ache.

“It's in the Lake Rotorua, on the Northern Island,” Goody explains. “Mokoia is sacred to the Maori here.”

Billy thinks she has heard those names before, or maybe seen, on the maps they studied together in Goody's spacious bedroom in her parent's house in Rose Creek. Back then they were just fantasizing about the future, about all the possibilities that awaited them at the end of high school.

“There were once two lovers, they say,” Goody continues, now in storytelling-mode. “Their names were Hinemoa and Tūtānekai.”

The Maori rolls easy off her tongue, smooth and melodious; she's always had a talent for languages, especially the ones that sound like songs, or poetry. Billy wonders if Goody is fluent already, if she can talk to the people in their own language. Then she remembers that Goody doesn't need any _language_ to communicate.

Billy's chest hurts. “Long names.”

“Hinemoa came from the shores of the lake and Tūtānekai lived on Mokoia Island.”

“Uhh...”

“They were in love, but not allowed to marry. Hinemoa's father Umukaria even forbid her to travel to the island by canoe,” Goody says, then sighs wistfully, to emphasize the tragedy of it. She knows how to keep her audience entertained. “But Hinemoa didn't let that stop her. She swam through the lake, guided by the sound of Tūtānekai's flute.”

 _Must've been one damn loud flute_ , Billy thinks, imagining herself braving churning masses of water, following Goody's voice. “... So even way back then parents were idiots?”

“Billy, I'm trying to create a romantic atmosphere here.”

Goody's frowning, Billy can _hear_ it. Goody's furrowing her brows, trying to look stern, but it just makes her look so unbearably cute that Billy can't help but kiss her, again and again.

“Sorry.”

“No, it's fine. I miss you too.”

“I didn't –”

“I know.” Now Goody's smiling, warm like sunshine, and suddenly Billy can't hold it in any more, the longing and the yearning and the need to have her again.

She bites back a sob. “... just make sure you come back, okay?”

“Oh, Billy,” Goody breathes. “ _Ko Hinemoa, ko ahau_.”

“What...” Billy sniffs and wipes her nose on her t-shirt. “What does that mean?”

“' _As for Hinemoa, as for me_.'” Goody translates. There's a crunching sound, like steps on gravel, and the voices in the background die away. “I'd cross a whole ocean for you.”

“Goody...”

“You should go back to sleep. You have lectures tomorrow.”

Yes, she knows. But it would mean hanging up, and Billy doesn't want to. “Sing for me?”

Goody does, softly, in Maori, and Billy listens, head on the pillow, fingers curled around her smartphone until she falls asleep.


End file.
